The One That Got Away
by Supernaturalxo
Summary: AU: Tate Langdon is a high-class writer, engaged to be married. Violet Harmon is a teenage runaway/maid. What happens when the two unexpectedly meet one night and unfortunate events take place?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: In this story, Nora and Charles Montgomery had adopted Tate and Addie because Constance was too focused on her social life to care for her children. But they kept their last names the same. **_

* * *

Violet Harmon was just a teenage girl trying to make a living for herself in the small town of Clover Hill. She moved out at eighteen just six months ago. She bounced from shelter to shelter until she could no longer take it. She tried going to school but she couldn't do it because she had no clean clothes and no way of supporting herself. She was a straight-A student, but she couldn't do it.

She ran away from home because she couldn't take the crap going on between her parents. Her dad, Ben, had cheated on her mother with a student of his after she miscarried just seven months into the pregnancy. When her mom, Vivien, found out she lost it. She divorced her dad and moved back to Boston with some guy named Luke.

Violet was now working in a place called the Murder House, alongside an older woman named Moira as a maid for Constance Langdon and her new husband, Larry. It wasn't the best job and it wasn't that Violet had hoped for but it paid well and it was the best she could do. Constance wasn't the nicest person around town but she was the wealthiest and Violet didn't complain.

"Harmon," Constance called from the living room. "_Harmon!_"

Violet came racing into the room. "Yes, ma'am."

"I have some guests arriving in a few minutes."

Violet failed to see what she needed to do.

"Put some tea on," Constance exclaimed. "Goodness gracious, child, it's not that hard."

_It is when you fail to mention that part. _Violet nodded once and hurried back to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, turning it on. She turned around put together some cucumber sandwiches and carefully placed them on a China platter.

The kettle started screaming and Violet turned the stove off. She set out some teacups and placed them, along with the pot and some teaspoons onto and iron tea platter and carried it out just as Constance's guests were arriving. They all gave Violet an _icky _look as she left the room. She came back a moment later and placed the plate of sandwiches beside the tea and stood back.

"That'll be enough, Violet." Constance waved her away.

Back in the kitchen, Violet leaned over the counter and let out a deep breath. She laid her face in her hands, tired. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold onto herself. She pretty much drove herself crazy with thoughts of beating her boss to death with a bat or stab her repeatedly until she saw nothing but red. The job may pay well for what it's worth, but one person could only take so much from Constance Langdon.

* * *

Tate Langdon was a twenty-one year old, high-class associate. He was a well-known writer around the vast city of Los Angeles. Everyone adored Tate the moment they looked at him. Girls swooned at his feet, men envied him. His blonde curls were his trademark. His eyes were a dark brown, nearly black which gave a look of great mystery to them. But they were no mystery to the lovely Chloe Stapleton, Tate's fiancé.

Tate and Chloe were to be married in three months. They were happy as could be. Tate's adopted parents, Nora and Charles, loved her dearly. Mostly because she kept Tate happy. His little sister, Addie, couldn't seem to warm up to her. She had told Tate multiple times that she would break his heart and that she wasn't the one for him. He brushed it off and continued his relationship with her.

"So how long will you be gone, dear?" Nora asked Tate. He was going to visit some friends in Clover Hill for a wedding.

He took a bite of his steak. He chewed carefully, wiped his mouth and said, "Just for the weekend, mom." He swallowed. Tate still found it quite difficult to call Nora 'mom'. But no matter what he was always saw her as his mother.

"So we'll see you Sunday," Charles assumed.

"You will." Tate smiled.

"I want to go too!" Addie slumped in her chair.

"Come now, Addie, it's bad posture to slouch," Nora said softly.

Addie fixed herself in her seat and folded her arms across her chest angrily. She envied how much her brother traveled. She never went anywhere because could never sit still long enough to go anywhere. Once Nora and Charles tried taking Addie to Seattle for a concert and she would yell at anyone who looked at her. She had never been a friendly person since her and Tate were adopted. She loved the family she was with, but anyone outside never appealed to her much.

"I want to go with Tate!" she yelled.

"You know I can't take you, Addie," Tate said sadly.

"Why not?"

Tate looked to his parents for help. Charles sat still. It was Nora who stepped in.

"I'll tell you what, honey-you and I can spend the weekend shopping and having girl time."

Addie's face lit up at the idea. She unfolded her arms and straightened up in her chair. Nora smiled and looked at Tate who nodded, impressed by her work. Nora Montgomery was the light of their family, the glue that held them together.

...

That night, Tate had been packing for his trip. He had packed two suitcases for the weekend. He spent over an hour on the phone with Chloe, trying to convince her that the wedding was for his friend. He would be gone no longer than the weekend. She tried to beg him to stay and come up with some excuse as to why he couldn't go. Tate didn't like the idea of skipping his best friend's wedding, so he told her no.

When he got off the phone with her, he stripped for bed and snuggled in under the covers. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. What he didn't know was that his trip to Clover Hill would change his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Diary,_

_Another great night at dinner. Mrs. Langdon asked for something nice for dinner, so Moira decided on Spaghetti alla Vongole. I helped her with it, of course. I served it to them and went back to the kitchen to help Moira clean up. In the midst of washing the dishes, a plate flew past my head and smashed to pieces on the cabinet door. I turned around and she was angry as hell. _

_"Too much garlic!" She yelled in her southern accent. "I hate garlic!"_

_She stormed out and went to her room. _

Violet closed her journal and tucked it in the drawer of her of her nightstand and turned the lamp out. It took her a while to get to sleep because she couldn't stop thinking about how different her life was and what could have happened if she didn't run away from home without a plan and without finishing school.

* * *

Violet was up at five the next morning. She pulled on her black dress and highlighted it with her perfectly white apron. She quietly walked downstairs and into the kitchen where she met Moira. The old woman turned and offered Violet a nod. Violet returned it and set about getting to work.

All morning the two women set about the house cleaning each room until no speck of dust existed. When that was done, Constance has come downstairs wrapped in a baby blue and lavender purple silk robe and stepped into the kitchen.

"Anything for breakfast, ma'am?" Moira asked.

"Just some tea, please, Moira." Constance waved her hand dismissively.

Moira set about her task while Violet was leaning over the counter, wiping it clean. She avoided eye contact with her boss after the events of the night before where Constance almost knocked Violet out with a sharp throw of a plate. Violet was more than grateful that she missed, but a little hesitant about her possibly missing her intentionally. She didn't even apologize, but then why would she? Violet was just the help. No one who mattered beyond the kitchen and the laundry.

* * *

Tate had just checked into the small hotel when he arrived in Clover Hill. It was the same as he remembered. The last time he'd been in this small town was when he was ten. He remembered the friendly neighbors, the birds singing in the morning and the ugly sound of his mother doing her latest husband just down the hall from his bedroom. He wondered who she was with now.

He walked into his large suite and took his bags to the bedroom. The receptionist offered for the bellhop but Tate declined it, saying he was more than capable of taking two light cases himself.

He found a large bottle of whiskey in the small liquor cabinet beside the door that connected the living room to the dining room. He poured himself a drink and took a swig from the bottle. Driving long distances made him antsy, so he used alcohol to calm him down. He heard his phone ring in the back pocket of his jeans. He fished it out and saw the caller ID. He smiled and answered it.

"Hello Kyle," he said.

"Tate, my man! Are you still coming tonight?"

"I just got in. I'm going to grab a few hours sleep, a shower and I'll see you at the church."

"Ah, you're a pal, Langdon. See you later."

Tate hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. He wondered how he managed to get so far with his writing at such a young age. He started writing poetry when he was eleven and worked up to short stories when he was sixteen. By the time he was nineteen he had finished his first novel. When he was twenty he was given the award for _Best_ _Young Writer of the 21st Century_. He was still surprised that his high school crush had started expressing a great interest in him. He spent his entire high school life crushing on her, gazing at her, watching the way her lips moved when she spoke. Now he was getting married to her. Nothing could make him happier.

A knock came from the door. When he opened it, he found a man standing in the hallway.

"Mr. Langdon," he said, "this is the dinner menu for this evening. Do you require anything special, sir?"

Tate shook his head. "Not at the moment, Anthony, but thank you."

Anthony nodded and left. Tate closed the door and headed for his room, where he fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

That evening, Constance and Larry were expecting the McClaine family over for dinner that evening. Apparently she had been well acquainted with them and their daughter, Hayden. Violet and Moira were asked to keep quiet in the kitchen unless they were out to serve drinks or snacks. Moira had just put the roast beef in the oven and began working the fresh vegetables. Violet was peeling three dozens of potatoes for real mashed potatoes. After slicing her fingers a few times, she finally got the hang of it. She kept thinking if she would ever get the hang of her job. Serving someone to earn a living for herself didn't seem like the life she'd imagined. Then again, what kind of life could you have as a teenage runaway.

"Moira?" Violet called.

"Hm?" The woman never stopped to look at Violet.

"How long have you worked for Mrs. Langdon?"

That seemed to stop the woman's work. She set the knife down and looked around as she thought. Violet couldn't stop staring at her ghostly eye. As creepy as it was, she found comfort knowing that she wasn't so different after all.

Before she left home, Violet would go to school and have girls make fun of her. She dressed in long dresses, loose-fitted cardigans and funky hats. She smoked, which angered some girls, and she cut her wrists on a regular basis. Even in the present she still did it. She would wait until she was done for the night to sneak into the bathroom, pull out a hidden razor and sliced a line or two into her ivory skin.

"I have worked for her for nearly...thirty years."

Violet's brows rose.

"Why for so long?"

Moira shrugged and went back to her cutting and assorting of the vegetables. "She's not so bad when you get the hang of things."

Violet had finished peeling and gently planted the potatoes the boiling water and went over to help Moira with everything else. She reached over for a carrot but Moira told her no, it was her job. Violet just sat there and watched Moira work.

"How long until she learns my name?" Violet groaned.

Moira chuckled. "Quite some time. She'd be calling me another name if I had one."

"You have a last name?" Violet never knew this. The old woman was introduced to her as just plain old Moira.

She nodded. "But I don't tell anyone outside immediate family."

Violet smiled.

...

The McClaine's had followed Constance and Larry into the dining room where dinner was laid out. Constance had asked Moira to fetch a bottle of white wine from the fridge. Violet was just bringing in the last of the vegetables when she noticed a familiar face. She didn't stop to examine her because it didn't take much to put the face somewhere. It was _her_. It was the girl her father had cheated on her mother with. Violet immediately felt hatred and loathing towards her. She contributed to her broken family.

"Harmon," Constance said, shaking her shoulder. "Kitchen," she whispered, "now."

Violet straightened and walked back to the kitchen. As she entered she saw Moira pouring glasses of wine. Violet walked over and picked up a few glasses, much to Moira's surprise.

"I'll help," Violet said. There was a look in her eyes that Moira hadn't missed but she wasn't going to say anything.

The two maids walked back into the dining room and served the wine. Violet handed glasses to Constance, Mr. McClaine and-oops, she spilled the last glass on Hayden. Hayden squealed in surprise and jumped to her feet. She quickly wiped at the wet spot and glared at Violet. Violet couldn't help the smile that formed on her face.

"You bitch!" Hayden shouted. "Do you have any idea how much this dress cost me?"

Violet crossed her arms and smirked. "Maybe that'll teach you to mess with someone's marriage," Violet snapped.

Hayden's eyes widened in shock as she realized what the maid was talking about. It didn't take her long to figure out who this girl was because Hayden had only ever been involved with one man who was married.

"Hayden, dear, what is she talking about?" Hayden's mother asked.

Hayden was speechless. She opened her mouth the speak but closed it again, unable to get any words out.

Without another word, Constance got to her feet and grabbed Violet by the arm, shoving her into the kitchen. Violet stumbled through the doorway and almost fell over, but thankfully catching herself on the counter.

"You stupid girl," Constance hissed. "Can't you do anything right?"

Violet straightened herself out. "That girl is the reason my parents aren't together anymore!"

"That's not my problem, Miss Violet." She laughed. "You're just a teenager who doesn't know half the shit she should about being on her own. I should know."

Violet folded her arms across her chest, fighting tears. All she could think about was how much she ruined her life. But then she thought about how her life would have turned out anyway. Would her parents still have divorced? Would her mom still have run off with that cop?

"I don't care about your family or your issues, Harmon. Here, you clean my house, cook my meals and do as I say, out of my way," Constance added viciously.

Tears sprung to Violet's eyes. "I hate you you cold, heartless bitch!" She ran past Constance, grabbed her coat and left.

* * *

"Congratulations!" Tate cheered among his other friends when he found Kyle Greenwell somewhere in the church.

"Thanks, man," Kyle said, pulling Tate into a manly hug. "You coming to the reception?"

"You bet. I just have to stop by my room and then I'll head over."

"Nice. See you there." Kyle grabbed his bride around the waist and hauled their way through the large crowd of people.

...

Tate stepped into his room and went in search of his car keys. Since the church was around the corner, he didn't see the need to drive over. He found them sitting on top of the fireplace. He headed for the door but was stopped when his cell phone rang. He saw the caller ID and smiled.

"Hello Chloe," he answered.

"Hello dear," Chloe said flirtatiously, "how is my favorite boy?"

"I'm good. I'm just grabbing my keys and heading over to Kyle's reception."

"When are you coming home?" she whined.

"Chloe I told you I would be gone for the weekend."

He hated it when Chloe got needy; it got in the way of his career. He loved Chloe, more than his writing, but he was trying his best to balance the two out so one wouldn't conflict with the other. But it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, Chloe always seemed to come first. And it was beginning to get on his last nerve.

"The wedding is only tonight, Tate. You could come home tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes. "Darling, this is for a friend. I'm also visiting my hometown, cut me some slack."

"Cut you some slack?" Chloe snapped loudly. "I always cut you slack, Tate."

"No you don't. If I need time to myself you come crawling to my front door or start blasting my cellphone until I answer. I'm doing this for a friend, give me that."

"You're making me sound like a stalker," she said quietly.

Tate groaned. "Would you stop? I'm sick of you trying to keep me from things."

"How do I do that exactly?"

"Right now!" Tate raised his voice, annoyed. He found it so unbelievable as to how she couldn't see what she was doing to him. How could one person be in so much denial? As much as he loved Chloe, he sometimes couldn't wait to get away for a bit.

"Now?"

"You're badgering me about coming home early when I told you that I was here for my friend's wedding."

"And now you're seeing your old town?"

"Yes! Damn it, Chloe, I'll see you Sunday, Monday-whenever I see you." He pressed 'end' on his phone and placed it back in his pocket. He leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths.

He thought about having a few drinks alone, so he walked over and opened the liquor cabinet. He opened the bottle of whiskey and started drinking. He immediately began to feel better. Tonight was going to be a good one.


	3. Chapter 3

Violet was walking down the dark street, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She walked and walked with no destination in mind. Cars were racing by her, tires screeching and horns honking. Violet didn't think much of it, but what happened next caught her by surprise.

A speeding black Mustang pulls up to the curb beside her and comes to a complete stop. Violet stepped over a few steps and kept walking.

"Excuse me," the driver called.

Violet turned around and slumped, walking back to the car. She leaned to see the driver and was shocked by what she saw. This man was beautiful. He had a pale complexion, curly blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was dressed in a pale gray suit with a crisp white shirt and red tie.

"Can you tell me how to get to _The Black Dahlia_?" Violet could easily tell that this guy had been drinking. She could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath and began taking shallow breaths.

"Um...you take this road down to Main Street, turn left on Donnie Avenue and you're there." She straightened up and moved to walk away without another word.

"Hey, wait!" the stranger called.

Violet stopped and walked back.

"I don't think I can remember all that. How about you climb in and show me." The beautiful stranger opened the passenger door for her but she hesitated.

"It's not hard," she said.

The stranger smirked at her. Violet always hated the looks she got from people who had money. She always despised the arrogance and asshole behavior she got from the other kids at her old school.

Violet tapped her foot on the floor for a moment before she slid into the car. The strangers smiled and headed towards Main Street.

"Turn left here," Violet said.

It was about three streets before they reached Donnie Avenue. When the car stopped, Violet looked out her window and saw the sign for _The Black Dahlia_. She reached for the door handle and turned back to the handsome stranger.

"Well, there it is." She pointed. "I'm sure you'll be fine from here."

"No wait," called the man. Violet stopped. She heard about these men: they'll keep you in the car long enough to figure something out before they jump you. But this guy didn't seem like the type to do something like that.

_Nobody ever does._

"Come and have a drink with me," he said.

She frowned. "I'm eighteen."

The man raised his brows. "Eighteen, huh?"

Violet rolled her eyes and moved to get out but the man caught her wrist.

"Let me go!"

"Please, just one drink."

"You're crazy," she spat.

"Come on, it's my best friend's wedding reception and I don't want to show up alone."

Violet looked in the stranger's dark eyes and saw that he was disappointed by her rejection. She wasn't sure if this was part of some rape plan but it's not like she had much to lose. She didn't have a proper home, she didn't have a boyfriend and she had no friends.

She agreed and the stranger pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Violet moved to get out but the stranger stopped her.

"Wait here," he said. He jumped out of the car and moved around, opening the door for her. She took his outstretched hand and climbed out of the car. The man paid the valet and she followed him inside.

The restaurant was crowded with people. A man from a nearby desk called out the man who brought her here. He excuses himself, promising that he'll only be a minute and goes to speak the other man. Violet looks around the crowded restaurant. She watches as cheerful people dance around on the dance floor having the time of their lives. She wondered what it would be like to actually live a lifestyle of wealth and popularity, but then she questioned why she would want that. The job she has now wasn't the best she could have been given but she was making good money and she was hoping she wouldn't have to do it for much longer.

She felt a hand on her lower back. She turned and saw the man who brought her in standing behind her, smiling weakly. She gives him an awkward smile in return. The music is so loud that Violet reaches up onto her toes and he leans down to listen.

"You never did tell me your name," she says into his ear.

The man pulls away and smirks. He holds a hand out to her and they shake. "My name is Tate Langdon." Violet takes her hand back. "And yours?"

Suddenly, she blushes and looks around at the dancing people around her. When she looks back at him he's waiting patiently for her response. "It's Violet."

He's smiling now. "Like the flower."

"I'd rather not think of it like that," she says.

"Why not?"

Violet shrugs. "My mom used to tell me that I was like the flower..." She trails off and folds her arms across her chest. Thinking about her mother made Violet upset. As much as her parents' divorce hurt her, she still missed them a lot and wished that her life had taken a different turn.

"And?" Tate asked.

Violet shakes her head, quickly dismissing the conversation. She wasn't sure what she was doing with this guy anymore. Suddenly, she just wanted to go home and go to sleep; she didn't want to be part of a such a high-class social scene anymore. She turned around and was about to leave when a large group of people walked in through the door, startling her and blocking her way. They were cheering as they strode in. There was a man dressed in a tuxedo and the woman at his side was dressed in a beautiful white dress that reached down to the floor. Violet moved out of their way to give them room.

"Tate!" the man in the tuxedo called out the curly, blonde man beside her.

"Kyle." Tate steps forward and takes his friend in a manly hug. They slap each other's backs and Tate moves back to Violet's side. He looks down at her and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Kyle," he says, "I want you to meet..." He drunkenly waves a hand for help.

"Violet," she says.

"Nice to meet you, Violet," Tate's friend, Kyle, says as he offers her his hand. They shake and Violet flushes a little when she sees the look on the bride's face. "Are you joining us for dinner?" Kyle looks between her and Tate.

"Oh no, I-I couldn't-"

Tate nudges Violet closer to him and smiles wide at his friend. "Of course she is." He smiles down at her.

He leads her as they follow the group of wedding guests into a private room with a large table set up with many chairs around it. Everyone moves about the room and finds a seat while the bride and groom take their places at each end of the table. There are two empty seats on either side of Kyle and Tate sits Violet down on one side before moving around to sit on the other.

"So," Kyle says, looking Violet. "How do you know Tate?"

Violet looks cautiously at Tate but he's too focused on the menu in his hands to even bother noticing the conversation. Her cheeks heat from the feeling of pressure and embarrassment, but she decides to give it her best shot.

"He got lost on his way here, so he stopped and I gave him directions."

Kyle nods and turns his gaze to his friend. He's about to question Tate about the whole thing as well when two waitresses walk into the private room, each carrying a tray of white wine. Kyle looks down the table at his bride and gives her a confused expression. Violet watches as a waitress hands her a glass of crispy white wine.

"I had the pleasure of ordering drinks," the bride says. Violet gulps and looks at Tate. He nods, reassuring that it was okay.

Violet shakes her head. "I, um...I don't drink."

"It's Kyle's wedding, Violet," Tate insists.

Violet thought about for a moment before picking up her glass of the bittersweet liquid and follows suit as everyone raises their glasses, following the bride. She stands gracefully, her eyes set straight on her husband. She's grinning like a fool but she still looked beautiful and Violet felt intimidated.

"To my loving husband," the bride says, "without whom I would not be so happy." She raises her glass higher. "Here's to us."

Kyle raises his glass. "To us."

Everyone clinks their glasses together and sip their drinks. Violet hesitates for another moment before taking a careful sip. The wine tastes strong and bitter at first, but she manages it down. She finds that it doesn't taste as bad when you drink a little more. But Violet had never had a drink before now in her life; she was in for an interesting night.


	4. Chapter 4

Violet couldn't deny that she was having a good time at these stranger's wedding. No one knew that she was underage while they handed her glasses of wine. She was offered a cigarette which she accepted gratefully, considering her stressful night. As the night continued on, she began to feel more light-headed and as if everything in her life no longer mattered. Her and Tate would exchange glances frequently, much to Violet's embarrassment.

After about an hour of drinking and laughter, the bride announced that everyone should move to public dining area for a dance. Violet was pretty hesitant at the idea because she never learned how to dance. Maybe she could go and just watch everyone else. A hand came down beside her and she looked up to see Tate smiling down at her.

"C-Come on, Harmon," he said drunkenly. "Let's g-go have a good time."

Violet couldn't help but feel excited. Someone she didn't know - but who was amazingly handsome - was asking her to dance. But even though she was happy about someone asking her to dance, she didn't feel like risking other people's limbs with her lack of coordination.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Tate asks when Violet doesn't move.

_I could put everyone on their ass, _Violet thought. When she didn't say anything or move, Tate reached down and took her hand, dragging her out of the private dining room and onto the dance floor of the public one where everyone was having a great time. Everyone was swaying, grinding and spinning around drunkenly. They laughed and drank as the night went on.

When they reached the crowded floor, Tate pulled Violet close into his arms and started dancing. Violet just moved her feet as Tate spun them around. As drunk as she was, she was still aware of what was going on. She knew how drunk Tate Langdon must be, which kind of made her feel bad because she was sure he had no idea what he was doing. She let him sway her around like a lifeless doll while he laughed. It wasn't long until he stopped and pulled back.

"What's wrong, Harmon?" he asks.

Violet shrugs.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugs again.

Tate looks around and walks through the crowd of people, leaving Violet standing awkwardly in the crowd of dancing party-goers. She looked at everyone's face and could see how much they were all having and she was jealous. Everyone knew each other and she immediately felt like an outsider. She had never been to _The Black Dahlia _and now she knew why. It was a place where the high-class socialites came for a good time.

She quickly thought of Constance and Moira. What would happen if she went back too late? What if Constance never let her back into her home? Violet was all sorts of worried at this point because working for that awful woman had been the best job she ever had since she left home. Was it really worth walking out because she couldn't handle what was said to her? She knew she had Moira to keep her sane. She never understood how she put up with Constance for so long, but she admired her for it.

After a lot of thinking, Violet went to pick up her coat and left. She pulled her coat close around her tiny frame and headed back to Constance's house, hoping she would be forgiven. Violet was always an honest person, but she could be very critical. She was now beginning to worry if her traits from high school had followed her to the real world. The whole walk back, Violet was trying to think of some things to say to Constance to possibly soften her up after the incident that night. She had ruined her boss's dinner because she saw the girl who helped break her family apart. Violet grew angry at the memory, but simmered down when she remembered that what had happened is done and there wasn't much she could do to fix it. She just had to accept that this was her life now.

She knocked on the door to Constance's house. When the door opened, her breath caught in her throat. To her relief, Moira was the one to answer, telling her that Constance had gone to bed but she was allowed back in. Violet hugged Moira and thanked her before heading back up to her bedroom. She was still feeling hazy and unbalanced from all the alcohol she consumed. Speaking of which...

She thought of Tate Langdon and how rude it was for her not to thank him for inviting her out. But then she remembered that he was a stranger who picked her up on his way to a friend's wedding.

_Tate Langdon, _she thought. _Langdon._ Then Violet gasped. She thought of the name 'Langdon' being Constance's last name. She was shocked to know that her boss and Tate's last name were the same. _Coincidence? _But Langdon wasn't a very common last name, so is it possible they're related somehow? He could be her nephew, second cousin. _Son? _

* * *

Tate had woken up the next morning with a bad headache and an empty champagne glass hanging between his fingers. He was staring at the ceiling and started wondering where he was. He carefully lifted his head up and saw that he was back in the bedroom of his hotel room. He dropped it back against the pillows and sighed with relief. He wasn't sure how he got back to his room, but he was grateful. He was especially grateful that he didn't wake up with a girl in his bed; since he had a long history of having sex with girls while vastly intoxicated.

He remembered bits and pieces of Kyle's wedding. He remembered the wedding and the reception with mountains of bottles of alcohol. It still amazed him how he managed to get to the reception at _The Black Dahlia _without crashing since he was drunk prior to the reception.

But above everything else, there was one thing - or person - that Tate remembered from the night before. She was small, petite, young and dare he say it, beautiful. _What was her name again? _

A long pause as he thought about the name of the girl.

And then it hit him.

_Violet._

There was something about that girl that reminded Tate of himself. He loved her fire and her feistiness. He recognized a strength in himself that he never sensed in anyone before and it intrigued him.

And then Chloe came to mind.

"Damn it!" Tate shouted. He crawled out of bed and grabbed the phone, despite his angry headache. He picked up the phone and dialed his fiancee's number.

She answered after three rings.

"Tate?" Chloe answers.

He sighs. Hearing her voice brought back the fight they had the night before. He hated fighting with Chloe, but he also hated it when it felt like she should be the first and only thing in his life. How could expect to further his career in writing if she wasn't supporting him, much less holding him back?

"Hi, Chloe," he answered half-heartedly.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You sound awful."

Tate wanted to tell her the truth about his out of control binge at Kyle's wedding reception, but she was all too familiar with his past. She made it very clear that she would never forgive him or accept anything if he cheated on her, whether he was drunk or sober. Tate was afraid that he would lose everything if he lost Chloe out of stupidity. But thankfully he realized that nothing happened with anyone, so he had nothing to worry about.

"I, um..." He tried hard to come up with some excuse. "Kyle's wife was sick and I think she might have passed something onto me." He fake coughs.

"Oh, you poor baby," she coos.

"Look, baby, I'm sorry about our fight last night," Tate says. "I haven't been sleeping well and I guess I was just having a bad day."

Usually when Tate and Chloe fought, he was the one left apologizing because everyone knew Chloe well enough to know that whether she was at fault for something or not, she would never say, "I'm sorry". As angry as she made him, Tate loved his fiancee with all his heart; he would never let anything or anyone get in the way of that.

"It's alright, Tate," she says softly. "You are forgiven."

Tate smiles to himself. "Thanks." He sighs. "Well, I'll be home tomorrow. Are you going to be okay until then?"

There's a heavy sigh of exasperation on the other end. "I suppose I have no choice, do I?"

Tate doesn't say anything.

"I'll see you tomorrow." And before Tate can say anything else, the line goes dead. He puts the phone angrily and runs his fingers through his lanky blonde curls.

He decided to have a shower and start a new day.


End file.
